


All We Are Is

by somethingnerdythiswaycomes



Series: Isle of Flightless Birds [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - BDSM, Blindfolds, D/s AU, Developing Relationship, Intercrural Sex, Kneeling, M/M, Oral Sex, Platonic BDSM, Rope Bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-04
Updated: 2016-05-04
Packaged: 2018-06-06 08:54:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6747352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somethingnerdythiswaycomes/pseuds/somethingnerdythiswaycomes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Braden notices everything in the dressing room.  He’s seen enough that, sometimes, he can guess what’s brewing before it really erupts in the locker room.  And maybe, because he saw Brooksy and Burky, that’s why he wasn’t able to see himself and Andre.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All We Are Is

**Author's Note:**

> Here it is! Soft Dom Braden Holtby!
> 
> I do not represent the real people presented as characters in this fic, nor do I make any claims about what they do or do not do in their real lives.

Braden notices everything in the locker room.  He doesn’t talk about most of it – he’s not a gossiper like Ovi – but he sees it all.  He can see how Oshie gets more and more wound up, as the season starts, and then more and more relaxed.  He’s seen most of the arc of Backy and Ovi’s relationship.  He’s seen Willy and Latts figuring their relationship out – the hickeys, and the rope burn, and the sullen moods that indicate a fight.

He’s seen enough that, sometimes, he can guess what’s brewing before it really erupts in the locker room.

And maybe, because he saw Brooksy and Burky, that’s why he wasn’t able to see himself and Andre.

 

.oOo.

 

The first game of the season isn’t really Braden’s best performance.  He can feel it during the game, and they still manage to get a win, but he knows it’s more thanks to the guys that scored than it is to him.

“First win!” Burky exclaims, bouncing around the dressing room.  He goes to Brooksy first, almost jumping on him until he gets a kiss and a hand ruffling his curls.  Then he goes over to Willy and Latts, going back and forth between them until they give him a hug and a pat on the ass.  He looks around the room; for Backy, probably.  He usually goes to Backy next, if Backy hasn’t got Ovi yet.

Braden looks back at his gear, starting to unbuckle his pads.  He doesn’t really have subs that’re depending on him right now; even Oshie found someone else in the preseason.

He’s the first stop for some of the more skittish subs that’ve been coming up.  They like his quiet, or so Oshie tells him.  He doesn’t get as possessive as the other guys get.  He couldn’t even count how many times Ovi’s come in with a livid bite mark high on his neck, over his shiny black collar, courtesy of Backy.

He hears a thump, and the locker room gets quiet.  Braden blinks and looks up.  The first thing he sees is Burky kneeling in front of him, blinding smile on his face, hands in his lap.

Braden opens his mouth, and then closes it with a snap.

Even when Burky first came to the district, he went to Backy, until he settled in with Brooksy.  He never went through the (by this point, typical) stop with Braden’s play collar and collection of blindfolds.  He doesn’t know what Burky wants from him.

He can guess, though.

“So excited for a win,” Braden says, and runs his hand through Burky’s curls the same way he’s seen Brooksy do.  Burky turns his head into Braden’s hand, leaning even closer to him.  Braden spreads his legs, using his free hand to push his pads off to the side so Burky can shuffle closer.

Once Burky gets close enough, he rests his cheek on Braden’s thigh and just _melts_.  He just sags against Braden, his eyes fluttering shut, his mouth almost pressed to Braden’s thigh.

Braden keeps his hand in Burky’s hair, and relaxes in increments.  He doesn’t want to show how tense he was by relaxing all at once.

See, as much as Braden knows how kneeling, or going down for someone, can relax a sub, he knows that having someone down for you relaxes a Dom just as much.  He likes having a sub kneeling for him, leaning against him, looking up at him like he has all the answers.

“You drink anything yet?” Braden asks, twisting one of Burky’s curls around his finger.  “Stretch out?”

“No,” Burky sighs, his eyes just open enough to look up at Braden.

“We can stretch together,” Braden says, holding his hand out for Burky’s.  When Burky takes hold of it, Braden stands, pulling him up with him.

He leads Burky into the hall, away from the curious eyes of their teammates, and they sit together on the floor, going through their post-game stretches.  Braden keeps an eye on him, even as he stretches his legs out to the side and reaches for first one foot, then the other.  Burky’s still got that dazed look in his eyes, that bright smile on his face, but he’s doing all the stretches he’s supposed to, not missing a beat.

“Good job,” Braden says, reaching out and resting his hand on the side of Burky’s neck, while he’s finishing a toe-touch.  “Time for something to drink.”

Burky hops right up, bouncing back into the dressing room, glancing back to make sure Braden’s following after every couple steps.

“Get a Gatorade and go sit next to my stall,” Braden tells him.  Burky nods and darts off to do just that.

They sit for a while at Braden’s stall, Burky kneeling between his legs again, his chin on Braden’s thigh as he holds the bottle for him.

The bottle’s almost gone when someone coughs, and breaks Braden out of their little bubble.

Backy’s standing there, his bag over his shoulder, Ovi drapped over his back.  The rest of the team is gone.

“Make sure he gets home,” Backy says.  His lips twitch, almost into a smile.

“Of course,” Braden replies.

Backy nods and leads Ovi out of the room.

Braden looks back down at Burky, who’s smiling his dopey smile up at Braden.

“Time for a shower,” Braden tells him.

They shower, at adjacent shower heads, get dressed, and Braden drives him home.  He walks Burky up to his apartment, just to be sure, and goes back down to his car to head home.

 

.oOo.

 

Braden kind of thinks that’ll be the end of it.

The other subs have all found a regular Dom for the season, or gone back to the one they’ve been seeing.  Braden likes Domming, of course, but he doesn’t really _need_ to that often.  He knows that Latts needs to pretty frequently, and Willy needs to sub pretty often, too.  He doesn’t know if Backy’s ever not Domming Ovi.  The others – he can see it in them, every week or week and a half, when they’re stretching too thin, getting to the end of their rope.

Braden never really feels that way.

Burky makes him get close.

Burky keeps going to Brooksy.  Braden sees it in the dressing room.  Burky does his circuit – a kiss from Brooksy, a hug each from Latts and Willy, and a pat on the head from Backy.  On the way back to his own stall – or, sometimes, back to Brooksy – he shoots a smile at Braden if they won, or ducks his head if they lost.

He and Brooksy leave together, about half of the time.  It’s fine.

More days than not, Burky comes to find Braden before their games, when Braden’s bouncing a ball against the wall, or sitting in his stall taping his sticks.  Burky’ll come over and stretch next to him while Braden runs through his stretches and throws the ball against the wall.  He’ll come and sit in the stall next to Braden’s and tape his own stick while Braden does his.  He’ll follow Braden into the equipment room and wait while Braden sharpens his skate blades before doing his own.  Braden waits for Burky to finish his, too, so they can walk back to the room together.

Within the space of a week, Burky goes from invading Braden’s routine to becoming a part of it.

It’s _fine._

 

.oOo.

 

Braden wonders what Burky’s getting out of it.  It’s not like Braden’s putting him down, or really touching him all that much.  He’s not giving him orders.  He’s not feeding him or petting his hair or kissing him.  He has _no idea_ what Burky gets out of hanging around him before games.

It starts to bother him.

Not, like, a lot, but still.

He prides himself on figuring out what subs need, and fulfilling that.  He’s an observer.  He can tell from how they are in the locker room, how they look at him when they approach him.  He can read a sub as easily as he can read a player taking a shot.  Except for Andre, apparently.

He can tell what Andre gets from the other Doms.  He can see that Andre loves touch, he loves praise, even when it’s just in the form of a smile.  He loves being taken care of, and he loves being guided into taking care of himself.

Braden’s not doing any of that for him.  He doesn’t praise him.  He barely even talks to him.  He barely touches him.  He doesn’t feed him or take care of him.

He’s going to figure it out, though.

He tries touching Burky – just a little bit.  Nudging him in practice, guiding him by the elbow as they go through their pregame routine.  Ruffling his curls after a game.  He tries talking a little more.  He tells Burky when he’s doing well, he chirps him a little more during practice.  Says something as a greeting, instead of just giving him a nod.

He thinks it throws Burky for a loop, at first, because a couple days into it, Burky interrupts their routine (right at the beginning, thank God) to say, “Are you trying to make me happy?”

Braden blinks and pulls his skate away from the sharpener.  “I’m trying to figure out what you get from our time together.”

Burky shifts a little closer.  “So you’re trying to make me happy.”

Braden raises his eyebrows, and nods, then looks at Burky.  “I guess.”

Burky smiles at him, shuffling up close and rubbing his cheek against Braden’s.  Braden stands there, pretty much frozen, his skate still clenched in his hands.

“Thank you,” Burky says, quietly in Braden’s ear.

“Of course,” Braden replies.

And then Burky pulls back and flashes that sunny smile at him. “Finish your skates, I still need to do mine.”

 

.oOo.

 

They stay just like that, locked in stasis, until Brooksy gets traded.

After that, Braden’s the first stop for Burky in the dressing room.  He comes to Braden’s stall for a hair ruffle, sometimes a hug, before going to Latts and Willy, and then to Backy.

Because he knew Burky’s pattern, Braden should’ve been expecting it when, the third game after the trade deadline, Burky does his normal circuit of the locker room and then comes back to Braden.

“Oh,” Braden says to himself, after a moment of Burky fidgeting silently in front of him.

“Do you mind?” Burky asks, ducking his head and standing right in front of Braden’s stall.  “I know we haven’t… it’s not something we’ve…”

“It’s fine,” Braden replies.  He reaches out for Burky, taking hold of his hand.  “Go shower, and change, and then come sit in my stall when you’re done.”

He’s seen how Brooksy would give Burky instructions like that.  And – okay – that’s close to Braden’s own style of Domming, too.  He can stretch a little to actual orders, instead of pre-negotiated expectations, this time.  He’ll make sure they negotiate, now that he knows it’s necessary.

Braden gets out of his pads, stretches out, and takes his turn in the shower.  He thinks, while he’s shampooing his hair.  He mutters to himself, the same way he figures out anything important, weighing the different options for tonight.

He could just have Burky kneel for him, like at the beginning of the season, and feed him and then drive him home.

He could do a little more – but still non-sexual.  He could have Burky stretch out next to him, and pet his hair, and give him the play collar to wear, maybe bind his wrists if he wants.  And then bring him back up, and drive him home.

He could step further down that path, try something sexual.  Order Burky to jerk off for him, while Braden watches and tells him what to do.  Tie his hands together and get him off himself.  Put a blindfold on him and make Burky wait in suspense for every touch.  Stretch him open and tie his arms to the headboard and fuck him.  And bring him back up, let him stay for the night, and drive him home in the morning.

Braden sighs, stepping under the showerhead to rinse out his hair.  The answer, really, is that he needs to talk to Burky.

That’s fine.

When he gets back to the dressing room, towel around his waist, Burky’s already sitting in Braden’s stall.  He’s got his suit back on, and his bag between his feet.

“Can you pass me my stuff?” Braden asks, stopping in front of him.  He doesn’t know how much Burky needs to really get him down.  For some subs, any order can do it, when they’re in the right frame of mind.  He doesn’t want to accidentally put Burky down into subspace before they can negotiate; he also doesn’t want to order around a sub that doesn’t like it.

“Yeah,” Burky replies, reaching behind him for Braden’s underwear and holding it out to him.

Great.  They’re going piece by piece.

Braden drops his towel and slides his underwear on, then takes his pants from Burky.  He has to brace himself on the stall to get them on, putting his chest barely two inches from Burky’s face.

“Shirt,” Braden says quietly, when Burky keeps staring at him.  Burky jumps and flushes, reaching for Braden’s shirt and handing it to him.

Braden gets the rest of his clothes on without incident.  Once he’s ready to go, he holds his hand out to Burky, to help him up, then shifts the hold to his elbow to lead him out of the room.  As they’re crossing to the door, Braden catches Backy’s eye.  Backy nods at him.  Braden nods back.

It’s not until they get to the car that Braden tries to start making a plan.

“There’re a couple different ways this could go,” Braden says, once Burky’s in the passenger seat and Braden’s started the car.  “I want to know what you’re expecting, and what you need, before I tell you the options.”

Burky takes a deep breath; when Braden peeks over, he’s staring out the windshield.

“I don’t really expect anything,” Burky says.  “I expect you’ll put me down, and aftercare.”

“Of course.”

“But other than that… A lot of things can put me down.  That’s all I really need.  I don’t want to think.”

Braden nods slowly, maneuvering his way out of the parking garage.  “If you don’t mind me asking, what did you and Brooksy do?”

Burky blushes bright red and looks down at his lap.  “We started off with kneeling.  Last year.  Then he started, um, tying me up, too.  We only started – you know – at the beginning of the season.”

“If you had your choice,” Braden says, then pauses, to figure out how to phrase it.  “If I would agree to absolutely anything, what would you want?”

“I wanna make you come, and I want you make to me come, too,” Burky says immediately, like he’s been thinking about it.  “I don’t really care how, but, uh, I like being tied up.”

Braden didn’t know that.  He likes tying his subs up.  Loves it, really.  He doesn’t really bring it out when he’s playing with new subs at the beginning of the season, only any that he’s spending time with on a more regular basis.  There’s no way Burky would _know_ that Braden loves that.  Maybe they do really fit together, somehow.

“I like tying people up,” Braden says.  “I like blindfolds, too, but I know they’re not—”

“No, I like that,” Burky cuts him off to say.  “I really do.  Maybe not the whole time?”

Braden feels his neck getting warm.  Now he’s starting to blush, too.  “I was thinking of that more for the future.  I like being able to read my partners, the first time.”

“Oh,” Burky says, like he’s surprised that Braden would be interested in playing with him again.

“Tell me how this sounds: I tie you up, arms and legs, and jerk you off.  After, you suck me off.  If you get hard again, I’ll make you come again.  Does that sound all right for you?”

“Yes,” Burky replies quickly.  “Yeah, that’s great.  What should I call you?”

Braden always feels a little weird, just asking for a sub to call him by name.  “Braden.  If you want to.”

“As long as you call me Andre,” Burky replies, and Braden smiles.

 

.oOo.

 

The next morning they’re flying up to Boston.  Braden sets an alarm, of course, but it’s still a rush to get Andre up and out of bed, back to his apartment, and get the both of them to the airport.

It just makes more sense to make breakfast to go, and let Andre eat while Braden drives to Andre’s place, and then eat his own while Andre’s upstairs getting his bag.  It makes more sense to drive in together.

Braden’s just glad it’s winter, so the guys won’t see the rope marks covering Andre’s arms and legs.  They should be gone by the time they get to Boston; he’s not really prepared for all the chirping they’ll be in for if they’re not.

Andre flounces over to Latts and Willy when they get to the waiting area, leaving Braden with a quick brush of his hand down Braden’s chest.  Braden flushes and watches him go, breathing a sigh of relief when he moves just as easily as he had yesterday.  In the back of his mind, he’d been a little concerned about Andre being tied up for too long and getting stiff, but Braden shouldn’t have underestimated him.

“He looks happy,” Backy says.  Braden tries to hide his flinch; he hadn’t heard Backy come up to him.

“Yeah?  That’s good,” Braden replies, trying for nonchalant.

“Hmm.” Backy peers up at him.  “You negotiated?”

“Of course,” Braden says, frowning a little.

“Aftercare, too.”

“Backy,” Braden says, turning to face him, instead of side-eyeing him like Backy was doing.  “I negotiated, I gave him options, I did aftercare.  You know I take care of any of the subs, when I play with them.”

“I know,” Backy replies mildly.  “Andre’s not any of the subs, though.”

They stare at each other for a moment, before Backy claps him on the shoulder.

“Good talk,” Backy says, shooting him a smirk before he walks back over to Ovi.

“Good talk,” Braden says to himself, looking across the waiting area at Andre, who’s laughing at something one of the kids said.

 

.oOo.

 

Again – they stay like that, for a while.  Braden and Andre keep reaching these points where they’re comfortable, and they just wait there until one of them pushes at those boundaries, pushes them a little further along.

And, once again, it’s Andre who does it.

They won their second to last game of the season – the last one that Braden’s gonna be playing – and everyone’s in a good mood.  They’ve got a game tomorrow, so not _that_ good a mood.  But they’ve got a playoff spot, they’ve got the President’s trophy, and Braden tied a league record.

Andre’s even more bubbly in the locker room.  Once he stops at Braden’s stall for his head pat, he doesn’t just go to the usual other guys.  He goes to every stall, doling out hugs and receiving them in equal measure.  Ovi nearly tackles him to the floor.

And then he comes back to Braden, dropping to his knees in front of him, just like that first game at the beginning of the season.  Same blinding smile, same pose with his hands in his lap.  This time there’s a gleam in his eye – now that they’ve been playing together for a couple months, and Andre knows what perfect sub posture does to Braden.  Andre had told him, too, that he likes showing off, likes waiting until he can have all of Braden’s attention on him.

“Holts!  Record!” Andre exclaims, rocking forward a little, once he thinks he’s waited long enough.

“Record-tying,” Braden corrects him, but he’s already moving his pads out of the way.  Andre’s nearly vibrating where he’s kneeling; Braden pats his thighs.

Andre jumps up and clambers into his lap, throwing his arms around Braden’s shoulders so he won’t slide back onto the floor.

“You did so well,” Andre says, leaning in and nuzzling his cheek against Braden’s, the way he’s taken to doing recently.

“Thanks, Burky,” Braden replies quietly, pressing a smile into Andre’s shoulder.

With the playoffs looming, he doesn’t want to spend too much time celebrating an individual record.  The President’s Trophy doesn’t mean anything once the regular season ends.  It’s nice to have a moment, _just_ a moment, to let himself feel proud for how he played, for how the whole team played this season.

Andre puts his hands on Braden’s cheeks, holds him still for a moment, and then leans forward and kisses him.

Everything stops for a moment.  Braden doesn’t know if the locker room falls silent, or if he just can’t hear anything over the rushing in his ears.

Braden kisses Andre back, putting a hand on the back of Andre’s neck and squeezing, kissing Andre harder.  He sweeps his tongue over Andre’s lips and, with a quiet moan, Andre opens for him.  Braden pulls Andre closer, his arm around Andre’s waist tightening.

Fuck – they need to stop.  Braden’s not _that_ much of an exhibitionist.

He pulls away from the kiss, squeezing the back of Andre’s neck one more time.  He looks at Andre, smiling slightly, no match for the incandescent grin stretching over Andre’s face.

“So scratchy,” Andre says, skritching his fingers in Braden’s beard.

“Not shaving it,” Braden replies.

“Not asking you to.”

Andre leans in to kiss Braden again when a cheer from across the dressing room startles them.

“Get it Burky!” Willy calls, his hands cupped around his mouth like they’re three rooms over.

Andre flushes beet red, but he doesn’t move off of Braden’s lap.  Braden’s glad.  Turns out he likes kissing Andre a little more than he thought he would.

He presses a kiss to Andre’s cheek.  It’s funny, a little, that they hadn’t kissed until now.  It’s that next step in the progress they’re making – from platonic kneeling, to sexual play, to… intimacy.

 

.oOo.

 

“You embarrassed?” Braden asks, after their last game of the season, when he’s managed to get Andre back home at last.  Andre’s blindfolded, his arms bound behind his back in a boxtie.  His legs are frogtied, his thighs and calves bound together.

Braden’s been doing this long enough that he knows how to keep the stress off Andre’s joints.  Well.  Keep enough stress off them that Andre’s not injured, but still gets the feeling of being bound and unable to move.

He can’t wait until the off season, when he doesn’t need to be as careful. But he can wait until May.

He looks beautiful, kneeling on the floor of Braden’s bedroom, bound up in dark red rope.

“No, Braden,” Andre replies, licking his lips.  Braden cups Andre’s cheek; it feels warm.

And then it occurs to him – beard burn.  Well, he did say he wasn’t going to shave it, and Andre doesn’t seem to be complaining.

“You ready to suck me off?” Braden asks, fisting his cock slowly.

Andre squirms, as much as he can, and nods.  Braden smiles and presses the tip of his cock to Andre’s lips; Andre opens his mouth immediately, like he’s been waiting.  He has been.

Braden lets Andre set the pace at first.  He settles back on the bed, bracing himself on an elbow, moving his hand to the back of Andre’s head and fingering his curls as Andre bobs his head slowly.  Braden sighs out a moan, his head falling back.  Andre pulls back a little, licking over the head.

Braden groans and tightens his hold on Andre’s hair.  If Andre ever cuts off his curls, Braden doesn’t know what he’s going to do.  It’s too nice to run his hand through them – in the dressing room, at the kitchen table, when he’s fucking between his thighs.

“Good,” Braden manages, pushing Andre’s head until he takes Braden’s cock in again.  Andre’s mouth is hot, and his tongue works _magic_.  Braden specifically doesn’t think of how Andre got so good at sucking him off.  He bucks up a little, thrusting deeper into Andre’s mouth; Andre takes it, hollowing his cheeks as he sucks.  Braden groans, and thrusts in again.

Andre makes a noise, deep in his throat, that vibrates around Braden’s cock.  That always pushes him close to the edge.

“Okay,” Braden pants, tugging at Andre’s hair and pulling him off.  “Bed.”

“I need help,” Andre says, his voice scratchy.  “I can’t…”

“I know,” Braden tells him, crouching down next to Andre and gathering him in his arms, heaving him up onto the bed.  That’s the one downside of frogtying him – but it’s worth it, when Andre leans back, his back arched because of his arms tied behind him, his legs bent and spread.

Braden leans down and kisses him, hard, his fingers digging into Andre’s hip.  Andre gasps into his mouth, bucking under Braden to try to rub up against him.  He can barely get any traction, the way he’s tied.  He whines into the kiss, trying even harder to rub off against Braden’s stomach.

“No,” Braden says, and Andre stops.  “Good.”

Andre relaxes into the bed, his head tilting back.  Braden sucks a mark into the side of Andre’s neck, fitting right into the curve of Andre’s neck and shoulder.

“Over,” Braden rasps, pulling back so Andre can rock back and forth, building up the momentum to roll over onto his stomach.  Braden doesn’t help, but once Andre starts moving, he shifts over to the closest edge of the bed.  He doesn’t want Andre rolling off and falling to the floor by accident.

Once Andre’s on his stomach, he pulls his knees under himself, pushing up until his ass is sticking up in the air, his shoulders and head pressed into the comforter.

“Good,” Braden says again, and presses a kiss to the back of Andre’s neck.  It’s strange, to have that skin available to him, with only Andre’s sweaty curls sticking to his skin.  They stopped using the play collar a couple weeks after they started playing; Andre said it was weird, to have to take it off, to not be able to wear it when he’d kneel in Kettler or the Verizon Center or on the road.

“Please, Braden,” Andre moaned.

Braden doesn’t make him wait.  He grabs the lube and squirts some onto his hand, rubbing it between Andre’s thighs.

“Together,” Braden says.  Andre squeezes his thighs together.  Braden kisses the back of his neck again, and grabs his cock, thrusting in between Andre’s thighs.  He moans, shifting his grip to Andre’s thighs.  He can’t pull Andre back onto him, not with his arms and legs bound, but he can hold Andre steady enough that he can thrust harder.

Andre groans every time Braden’s cock nudges his balls, or rubs along the underside of his own.  They’ve done this enough that Braden knows exactly how to hold Andre, exactly how to angle his thrusts to still give Andre some pleasure, even when Braden’s just rutting between his thighs.

They’re waiting for the off season before Braden fucks him for the first time.  He’d love to do it with the Stanley Cup in the next room and champagne on both their tongues.

“Andre,” Braden moans, bending over him and thrusting faster.  “Tighter.”

Andre whines, and squeezes his thighs tighter.  Braden moans and thrusts in again, before he pulls out and comes over the swell of Andre’s ass.  He tries to avoid the rope, and there’s some possessive part of himself that likes sees Andre there, bound up by Braden, with his come marking him.

He swipes his hand on the inside of Andre’s thighs, then reaches around and grips Andre’s cock.  Andre can barely even rock into his hand like this; Braden tightens his hand, and pumps him quickly.  Sometimes Andre likes it when Braden goes slow and light, makes Andre really build up to it; sometimes Braden likes doing that even when Andre wants fast and tight.  But right now Braden just wants Andre to come.

“Come,” Braden growls, and rubs his thumb over the head.

Andre cries out and comes, his body shaking under Braden.

Braden’s not possessive – but when he’s got Andre under him, trembling his way through an orgasm, tied up in red rope and blindfolded, trusting in what Braden’s telling him and doing to him...

When he alternates holding a bottle of Gatorade to Andre’s lips and undoing the ropes around him, rubs the marks left by the rope until he’s sure there’s no damage done.  When Braden takes off the blindfold and Andre blinks up at him, his eyes a little wet, but his red lips stretched in a smile, that’s when Braden gets close.

**Author's Note:**

> (Soft Dom Braden Holtby also turned into Bondage-and-Blindfolds Dom Braden Holtby lol)
> 
> Join me in sin on tumblr @ somethingnerdythiswaycomes


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